However, being a bureaucrat isn’t satisfying her artist’s soul and after tonight, Abby is going back to New York to try and make it as a jazz singer. In one of their many coffee conversations while discussing foundation business, Olivia asked why she didn’t stay in Hong Kong or in Asia where she could be a star.
“Because only New York is New York and New York is jazz. If I don’t try, I’ll never know and I don’t want to be sixty and wonder what if,” was Abby’s reply.
Abby spots Olivia and announces to the audience, “And now I see my favorite pianist and best friend in the audience, Olivia Southam. C’mon up, Olivia and play a tune with me.”
“Oh no, I can’t do that,” protests Olivia.
“Are you going to deny me a final wish on my last day in Hong Kong?” teases Abby. “Come on.”
Olivia smiles awkwardly, gets up and makes her way to the piano. “What do you want to sing, Abby?”
“You know I love Georgie,” answers the Asian songstress.
“More Gershwin it is.” Olivia begins with a velvety rubato intro and then launches into a full swing beat—her left hand doing a walking finger bass and her right hand groovin’ cool with licks right out of the fifties. Abby and the rest of the room begin snapping their fingers in time to the sounds.
Abby gets off the stage, crooning and swaggering—she’s got the whole room in her hand. She points the microphone at Noah, who laughingly pushes it away as he declines the sing along.
Making her way back to the stage, Abby sits beside Olivia at the grand piano and the two sing together. There’s the comfortable ease of performance that comes only from being on the other person’s musical radar.
***
Whistles of approval and raucous clapping fill the air as Abby and Olivia take a bow.
Abby announces to the audience, “This girl has got to come back with me to New York.”
The applause and cheers grow louder.
The accolades are bittersweet though. Olivia sees Noah at the front table dozing.
The silent frown on her face speaks volumes.
***
Noah and Olivia walk slowly through the hotel lobby.
“I can’t do it anymore, Noah.”
“I need you, Olivia. We need you, Olivia.”
“I know the foundation’s important but it’s not me, Noah. I’m not the corporate type. I’m not the bureaucratic type. Plowing through paperwork is hardly my idea of how to spend my life. You, your parents were missionaries. They believed in sacrificing themselves to do good for the world. But me? I’m far from a saint. I’m going to go with Abby to New York.”
“Then I’m going to join you. We’ll conquer the Big Apple together.”
“Noah?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to go by myself.”
“You can’t. After all we’ve been through. It’s you and me, it’s us...”
Olivia stiffens. “It won’t work.”
“And why not?”
“You’re not my type. Your life is being out there saving the world. I’m a self-centered spoiled rich bitch who just wants to play the piano.”
She stops at the hotel entrance. “Goodbye Noah.”
“Goodbye?”
“I’m going back to the lounge and play a few more tunes with Abby. And then I’m going home to pack. I’ve already booked the flight with Abby tomorrow... I bought the ticket a few days ago but wasn’t sure whether I was going to use it... I wanted to see you first. And...”
Noah bites his lip and then swallows. “Right.”
As Olivia walks back to the lounge with her back to him, Noah doesn’t see the warm tears rolling down her cheek.
When she disappears around the corner, Noah reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a little box and opens it.
Inside is a custom-made diamond engagement ring, perfectly set with one larger flawless diamond and five smaller diamonds surrounding it.
He should have seen it coming but... love doesn’t make the world go round. Love isn’t all you need, but Noah―like so many before him―bought into that lie. He should have thought more about her, what makes her want to get out of bed in the morning.
Olivia never really wanted to be a lawyer, politician or involved in high finance. Her heroes were never Warren Buffet or Hillary Clinton. No, her heroes were the late legendary jazz pianists Bill Evans and Oscar Peterson. They could take a simple song and turn it into magic. Olivia’s too young to have ever seen them live but she bought every DVD, downloaded every performance she could find. What kept her sane during law school was YouTube, where with her ear-buds on she could live in the world of 1950’s to 2000 New York jazz while learning about the legal implications of corporate mergers, high level accounting and suing the pants off anyone who wanted to infringe on a client’s copyright.
It’s only been a few months but as he, Olivia and Abby worked together to build the Chad Huang Foundation, Noah sensed that the girls’ hearts were not entirely there. Both were doing a fabulous job, yes, but there is something about an artist’s temperament that drives them to want to show the world―and themselves―what they have accomplished, what they have created. An audience for their art and the opportunity to pursue it are all that most performers want.
When Abby had told Noah and Olivia before this latest trip that she was leaving, Noah wasn’t surprised. Abby had no family, no significant other, only a job that she didn’t really want to be in. For Olivia, he’d thought things were different. After all, there was... well, there was him.
But he now sees that wasn’t enough and he’s smart enough not to try to cling to something that doesn’t want to be clung to.
That’s why he didn’t fight or argue with Olivia. She would never be happy unless she gave becoming one of the world’s best-known female jazz pianists―mentioned in the same breath as Marian McPartland and Diana Krall―a shot.
And New York? Of course. The mountain doesn’t come to you; you have to go to the mountain.
Noah closes the ring box, puts it back in his pocket and walks out the door.
Time to move on.
The only question is, “Where?”
Chapter Six
Twenty-one Years Ago
George and Sarah Reid, husband and wife teachers from Seattle, run a small private English school, the Good Shepherd, out of their home in Hong Kong. While they could make a lot more money by teaching in one of the private expat schools that cater to foreign executives who are brought in at high salaries to run Asian operations, both of them have a burden for Hong Kong’s poor. None of their thirty-some-odd students have much money and none is demanded. Tuition is free which may mean a bag of oranges or a cooked chicken or it may mean a thousand dollars from an occasional benefactor. George and Sarah have always operated on the principle that “The Lord will provide,” and somehow at the end of the month, the rent is paid, their bellies are full and they have enough to make sure that the students have adequate school supplies.
They have a seven-year-old son, Noah, who was born in Shanghai when the couple taught there. They loved the big city but after a while, George felt he should include more of a Christian message in their teaching curriculum. As China was not keen on spiritual matters being openly taught at that time, the Reids decided to move to Hong Kong, rather than have any of their Shanghai students put in a position for possible reprimand or worse. There had been stories of Christians being jailed or put in labor camps and the Reids didn’t want to risk the futures of their pupils.
The area in Hong Kong where the Reids live and work is richly diverse and vibrant. Yes, the area is poor but it teems with life. Street hawkers sell everything from freshly killed pig parts to ceramic Buddhas. Office workers and hookers line up side by side at outdoor stalls for steamed dumplings and pastries. The Reids’ apartment is on the fifth floor of an old tenement―no elevator of course.
George and Sarah mark papers in their living room cum classroom as young Noah enters.
“Mommy, Daddy, I made a new friend.”
Without glancing up, George replies, “That’s nice.”
“Can he live with us?” asks the young boy.
Now he’s got their attention. It’s one thing to adopt a stray dog or cat but it’s another to bring a human into the equation.
“Can we meet him?” asks Sarah in a friendly voice.
“Sure.”
Noah opens the door to the flat. In walks a fifty-one-year-old Chinese man of medium height with a full, thick set of jet-black hair with a touch of grey. Trim and light, he is dressed in the grey martial arts garb of the Shaolin monk that he is: a plain, loose-fitting shirt with wide sleeves that hang almost to mid-thigh and baggy, pajama-like pants.
While not skinny, there is not a milligram of excess fat on his five-foot-nine figure. Without fanfare, without excess emotion, he shows incredible elasticity. From a standing position, his head touches the floor as he bows. He straightens, stands tall and announces simply, “I am Wu. I am a Shaolin master of Hung Gar.”
George quickly assesses the man. He knows Chinese men and knows that whatever situation Wu is in, he must be allowed to keep self-esteem intact. Absolutely, he cannot be considered a charity case.
George offers his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Master Wu. Noah wants you to stay with us. If you are willing, we would be most honored if you would.”
Master Wu stands rigid—the consummate “inscrutable Chinese,” it is impossible to know what is going through his mind.
And then… “I accept.” Master Wu gives the Shaolin hand sign (or salute) to George.
Sarah enters, carrying a plate of cookies. She trips on one of Noah’s toys on the floor sending the cookies flying. With lightning speed, Master Wu snatches the tiny delicacies before they hit the ground and puts them back onto the plate.
The wide-eyed Noah tugs on Master Wu’s jacket. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“It will be my privilege, Noah.”
***
For fifteen years, Master Wu had a very successful small martial arts studio before he met the Reids. Students from all over the world were attracted to his special style of martial arts, Hung Gar or Tiger and Crane. This included teenagers Garret Southam from England and Tai Shan “Tommy” Sung and Chin Chee Fok from Guangzhou. The three aspirants were among Master Wu’s enthusiastic thirty students in the studio. After a few years of dedicated hard work, religious study and meditation, the three ambitious young men wanted to spread the news of Hung Gar to the world with Master Wu as chief evangelist.
Chin’s dreams were the biggest. He was the most aggressive and charismatic and all of Master Wu’s clan followed him. Buoyed by initial success, Chin convinced the others that borrowing money to finance the growing Shaolin Empire was the key to growth. Master Wu allowed himself to be swept up in the euphoria of progress. Five new schools went up quickly and another ten were in the planning stages.
Unfortunately, the world economy began to weaken. Students who initially forked over cash for their lessons now could not afford the luxury of martial arts classes. Others took advantage of Master Wu’s policy of never asking for money. These unscrupulous persons never contributed anything but took in free shelter and food with little care for the Shaolin. With such rapid and uncontrolled expansion, the quality of teaching went downhill. It was a disaster waiting to happen and it happened. All the studios went bankrupt. Master Wu was destitute and broken.
That’s when he met Noah and became part of the Reid household. While he did not become a Christian, living and learning with the Reids had a profound effect on him. Master Wu rebuilt his life as a teacher based on the model of Jesus that the Reids shared with him.
While today Christians number over a billion believers, when Jesus began his ministry two thousand years ago, his approach was not to “go big.” Jesus did not regularly go to the masses and try to convince them that he was the Messiah, the promised Savior of Israel. Instead, he concentrated his efforts on a dozen men, teaching them what he thought was important. Master Wu thought about this deeply and realized his errors.
He made two decisions. With a flash of sanity, he decided he would concentrate his efforts and goes deep with a select few rather than spread himself thinly among the thousands that the schools tried to reach.
The other decision that the penniless monk made was that he would pay back every creditor and every debt that his students had incurred. A good name was more important than wealth, another Biblical principle learned from the Reids. It took him years but the debts were eventually cleared.
Chin on the other hand was unrepentant. He had tasted material gain and greed devoured his soul. He abandoned all the principles that Master Wu taught about the righteous man in favor of trying to get more and more and more. Once Master Wu’s prize monk with inestimable talent, now financial gain at all costs was the only goal, he aspired to―and he convinced Garret and Tommy to join him on this dark path. The three contributed to the destruction of hundreds of thousands of innocent souls.
Chapter Seven
Present Day
Inside the plain concrete building that has been his home for years, Grandmaster Wu meditates with eyes closed in the lotus position, almost like a little Buddha in the middle of the studio. He hasn’t changed much over the years. He still wears the traditional navy blue martial arts uniform of pure satin loose-fitting trousers and jacket with his Chinese surname, Wu, embroidered in a single small gold letter over his heart.
However, there is something different about the master. It shows up most obviously on his face but it has little do with natural aging. He wears the look of one who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Someone who deeply, deeply cares yet has made some terrible decisions. Someone who wishes he could change things but knows he never can.
Wu’s only way of dealing with his unspoken guilt is the hours that he spends in meditation.
Master Wu began to practice Shaolin Mindfulness Meditation long ago as a child. It is not a formalized system per se that has specific goals and rituals associated with it. Every school, every monastery, every individual practitioner has his own purposes. Some monasteries emphasize the spiritual, others the physical―especially the martial arts.
For genuine Shaolin Hung Gar martial artists like Master Wu, the spiritual forms the core for the physical. It’s why his school never really caught on in Hong Kong. It’s why purists feel that North American style martial arts are heretical. The spiritual aspect of the discipline is lost or minimized. All are interested only in self-defense, how to be a tough guy, how to break boards or how to break heads. Master Wu taught all of that and more but physical training was always subservient to the mental discipline of meditation.
However, today an incessant pounding on his front door distracts his ability to meditate on nothingness. Normally, he would pay it no heed but the pounding has been constant for over half an hour. With as much irritation as a Shaolin monk will allow himself, Master Wu gets up and hurries to the door.
He is fully ready to give a tongue-lashing to whoever he finds there. However, irritation changes to surprise when he opens the door. There is a monk dressed similarly to Wu but with the insignia, Shaolin embroidered in the place where Master Wu has his name. The man’s eyes are the dulled eyes of the blind. His face and body are bloody and beaten to a pulp.
The unknown man falls and Master Wu catches him and pulls him inside the door. He quickly lays him on the floor and leans over to speak to him. The man utters words that chill Master Wu to the bone. “Your sins can never be forgiven.”
This is the thought that haunts him and somehow, this person whom he has never met has pinpointed his most vulnerable spot.
This short statement so shocks Master Wu that for the briefest of moments, he lets down his guard to pull the man’s face closer to him. Wu does not see two Namaqua dwarf adder snakes slither out of a fold in the man’s uniform. One of the six-inch serpents bites Master Wu’s leg.
The other slithers away.
It invokes excruciating pain and the normally stoic master cries out, “Ah! Ah!”
Master Wu’s focus degenerates quickly as disorientation rapidly progresses—the serpent’s venom has hit his bloodstream. Moreover, paralysis is setting in and movement is a struggle. Master Wu tries to say something, but the words stop in his throat. The world spins around then fades to black.
The monk lifts up Master Wu’s pant leg and sees the puncture marks and swelling caused by the serpent’s bite but sees no snake. Suddenly, the monk spots the snake on his own arm, ready to bite. He grabs the little viper, throws it to the floor and brings his foot down hard on it, crushing its head. One of the reptile’s eyes pop out and its slithering body flails for a few moments, then starts twitching spasmodically, until it finally gives itself up to death. The monk takes a small bag from his jacket, takes out a towel, wipes up the pools of crimson and then wraps the snake’s carcass and pulverized remains of the animal’s head in the absorbent cloth.
Where is the other snake? He frantically searches the foyer area but can’t find it anywhere. He looks at his watch and notes the time.
Shaking his head, the monk gets up and walks out the door. As he walks through this colorful side street in Hong Kong, he pulls out the contact lenses that gave his eyes their dull glazed appearance.
The blind can now see but it certainly was no miracle.
Chapter Eight
From the Gateway Pacific to Master Wu’s studio is about a five mile walk. Noah could take a cab but then he’d have to chat up the driver, which is something he is definitely not in the mood for. Not that Master Wu knows anything about women, but ever since his parents died, the bachelor monk has been the one person he can count on to not judge him when he lashes out.
The Noah Reid Series: Books 1-3: The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series Boxset Page 27
